Facing the Darkness
by willrunforcupcakes
Summary: A lonely young wood elf finds herself in Whiterun with the Companions. Her first month as one of them goes a bit worse than she's hoping for...save for a couple of blossoming friendships. What's next for Skaya, and for Skyrim? *main character isn't the Dragonborn, though the Dragonborn will appear in the story at some point* -indefinite hiatus-
1. Chapter 1

The stars are beautiful at night. This I know.

Leaving Jorrvaskr without armor was a bad idea. Terrible idea. I saw one wolf, but I didn't notice the pack behind it. This I know.

I need to stay awake. I need to believe someone will find me. This I know.

Of course, it was still daytime when I left. A simple stroll to clear my head, not intended to be more than an hour. Everyone knows you don't walk by yourself at night. Not in these times of danger. But I got lost in my daydreams. Couldn't find the path I'd taken. None of the trees looked the same. The darker it got, the more they seemed to be laughing at my confusion.

"Stay awake," I mumble. "Look at the stars. How far away they must be. Not even the Dragonborn could shout them away." The last part makes me laugh. Dragonborn. What a concept. I've never met the Dragonborn, but I know she lives in Riften.

Bright red blood runs in rivulets down my arms; a deep scratch on my chest sends shockwaves of pain from my head to my toes. I wish I knew more about healing spells-

"Skaya!" A male voice comes from somewhere behind me. That sounds like Vilkas. He usually goes hunting with Farkas. I hear him again: "Skaya! Where are you?" So they're searching for me. "I'm h-here," I croak. No way they can hear me. I need to be louder. It will take all I've got left, but if I want to live, it's my only option.

"Skaya!"

"I'm here! Please help me!" Good. I don't know if I could do it again, though. I hear Vilkas speaking in a hushed voice, then two more male voices. They're getting closer. They have to see me.

"Help," I squeak. That's it. I can't move anymore.

"Skaya!" Vilkas says. Footsteps barrel in my direction. "By the Gods," Farkas whispers. Vilkas, Farkas, and Kodlak materialize above me. Maybe I'll be okay.

"What happened to you?" Kodlak asks as Vilkas examines my wounds. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Farkas just watches, knowing there's nothing he can do. But no, there is something, he could tell me it's okay, he could say anything-

The forest and the three Companions fade to darkness.

 _Snap._ A twig splinters somewhere beneath me.

I slowly open my eyes. The sky is still spotted with stars. Blinding bright stars. My head pounds. I squeeze my eyes shut again. But there was something else, a familiar face, and dark shoulder-length hair. His amber eyes stared straight ahead. His strong arms wrapped around me, carrying me as he walks. Farkas.

Against the wishes of my throbbing head, I sneak another glance at him. At the same time, he looks down, a small but warm smile forming on his face. I can't keep my eyes open anymore. It hurts too much.

 _It's okay._ I'm safe now. This I know.

 _"I want to join the Companions," I declare._

 _The two men at the table give me a once-over. They whisper to each other as if I'm not there. Suddenly, the older one with the white beard bellows, "I am no one's master!" The younger one just shakes his head. He won't make eye contact with me. Whatever. I'm not trying_ _to impress him. I turn my attention to the older one._

 _"My name is Kodlak_ _White-Mane," he tells me. "This is Vilkas. You will train with him. Welcome to the Companions." Vilkas_ _gets up and stalks away. I smile at Kodlak, then follow him out._

 _In the courtyard, dummies with targets painted on their chests are lined up against the gray stone wall. A patio with a few tables boasts a tantalizing lunch spread. I haven't eaten yet today. My eyes take in the food. "This way," Vilkas_ _says gruffly. He leads me past the food and draws his sword. "Let's see what you can do."_

 _He's a good fighter, but he's no match for my dwarven_ _sword. "Alright. You've proven your skill," he concedes after he's taken a few well-placed swipes. Inwardly, I rejoice, but all Vilkas_ _gets from me_ _is an unsmiling nod. Two can play the game of silence._ _I follow him back towards_ _Jorrvaskr, and as we pass the lunch spread, I notice a man sitting at the table_ _who wasn't there when we came outside. Vilkas_ _nods at him, then disappears inside. "You have a good sword arm," the man, who bears a shocking resemblance to Vilkas, tells me._

 _"Thanks," I mutter._

 _"Care to join me for lunch?"_ _My mind hesitates, but my stomach_ _takes precedence._

 _"Um. Sure, why not." I plunk down across from him. "I'm Skaya."_

 _"I'm Farkas. Vilkas_ _is my brother," he says, and offers_ _me a white plate with a sweetroll perched on it._


	2. Chapter 2

By the Gods, my chest burns. When I open my eyes again, I'm staring at the brown stone ceiling above my bed in Jorrvaskr. I gingerly twitch my arms; they seem to be faring much better. I put a hand to my chest. The scratch goes from right beneath my heart all the way up to my collarbone. Someone has stitched me up, and I feel like one of the training dummies stuck out in the courtyard. Like them, I had a target painted on myself – when I got lost in the forest alone. I push the hide blankets off and sit up, careful not to bump my arms. As I contemplate whether or not to leave my warm bed, Aela's voice floats down the hall to me. Her footsteps come soon after. She pauses just outside the door.

"You can come in," I say.

She strides in, bow swinging from her back as usual. "How are you feeling?"

No good answer for this one. "I've been better. Lucky to be here."

A good-natured chuckle. "Yes. Yes, you are. Let me check those stitches."

I hold out my arms as she sits next to me. "Who put me back together?" I ask, trying to keep the mood light.

"I did," she says, gentle fingers gliding over each stitch. She must sense my next question, because she goes on: "Before I came to Whiterun to be a Companion, I was a traveler. Some of the Khajiit caravans I met taught me simple remedies and medicinal techniques." She looks up at me. "They seem to be healing nicely. You'll be just fine."

"What about this one?" I lower my arms and point at my chest.

She squints. "Looks good for now."

A realization strikes me. "Um. When did my tunic change from brown to blue?"

"Well." A slight hesitation; very uncommon for Aela. She's never been one to hold back the truth; at least, not when I've been around. She sighs, then launches into the story:

"Vilkas came running in, saying there'd been an incident and that you were badly hurt. He asked if there was anything I could do. Kodlak and Farkas were only a few minutes away with you. We set you up in here, in the corner bed that doesn't belong to anyone. The only way for me to gauge the severity of your injuries and begin to treat them was to do away with the tunic. But don't worry, I shooed the others out first."

I nod dumbly, feeling suddenly vulnerable. I've only been a Companion for a month; these people are still new to me. And I can't even remember her version of the story. Well, my story.

"You're allowed to feel scared, you know," Aela remarks.

"Thanks for saving me," I reply, unsure of what to say to that.

She just smiles and pats my hand. "Why don't you come upstairs and join us for dinner? Or, if you don't feel well enough, I can send someone down with food for you."

"I'm really not-"

"You will eat. You must keep your strength up or you won't heal properly. Arguing is pointless," she says sternly.

I'm not going to win this one. "I'm not quite ready to join you all. I'd really just like to stay down here for a while."

"So it's settled, then. I'll have some food down here for you soon."

She gets up to leave. "A few of us will be up late if you decide to join us. We're planning the next journey to Winterhold."

I nod.

"Get some rest," she tells me, then makes her way back upstairs.

In search of quiet entertainment, I slide on my hide slippers and pad over to the bookshelf by Kodlak's room down the hall. When I first met him and Vilkas, the bookshelf caught my eye before anything else in the hall. It was a wealth of knowledge, just waiting for me.

Most of the books are faded from use, but there's one that still holds a bright red sheen. I pull it out from between two fantasy novels and peer at the cover.

 _An Unforgettable Romance_? Seriously? I thought this would be actual literature. Leafing through the first few pages tells me, in no uncertain terms, that this book is not for children. Well, maybe it's not what I had in mind, but might as well see where the story goes. After all, it's not like I'll be going hunting anytime soon.

I walk back down the hall to my bed with the book secured under my left arm, lest anyone see me carrying a romance novel. The Companions would call me a milkdrinker for the rest of my life if they knew about this.

Safely back in bed, I open the book. It doesn't occur to me that someone is standing over me until a voice comes from above my head.


	3. Chapter 3

"Skaya?"

It's Farkas, toting a tray of food. The spread looks delicious: steaming horker stew with half a loaf of wheat bread to soak up the broth, freshly sliced vegetables, and a sweetroll. He sure knows how to impress a woman.

"Oh, is that for me?" I try to discreetly shove the book under the sheets, out of his sight.

Farkas' cheeks are flushed. "Yes, of course. Do you think I carry food around just so I can tempt myself with it?" As always, his voice is gruff, but his eyes are playful. He hands me the tray and hovers. That sneaky Aela sent him down here on purpose. She knows how I feel about Farkas. He's waiting for an invitation to stay awhile...I think. Well, I'm certainly not going to turn him away.

"Please, stay with me a few minutes. I could use the company," I say, motioning to the ottoman next to the wall behind my bed's wooden headboard. He looks at the ground sheepishly, then plants himself and his trusty shield on the ottoman. I bite into the bread.

"Thanks for bringing this," I mumble between chews. He nods once.

"So what's this I hear about Winterhold?" I ask at the same time that he asks, "Are you healing?"

We look at each other. "You first," he says before I can open my mouth.

"Winterhold," I say, smiling. "Why are they planning another journey? Didn't we just send fighters out there a few weeks back?"

See, even though the Companions have never been involved in skirmishes between Imperial and Stormcloak factions, they were forced to pick a side not long before I arrived. Both sides had come to Kodlak and the Circle asking for help, and it became too difficult to stay neutral. The Companions discussed the matter amongst themselves and ultimately chose to fight with the Imperials. Together, the Imperials and Companion fighters decimated two Stormcloak hideouts, Fort Sungard and Fort Amol, last month.

Farkas's eyes darken at my question. "The Stormcloaks are making rapid progress. We weren't expecting them to move on from those attacks so quickly. Ulfric must've called for reinforcements and brought in a fresh group of brainwashed citizens."

Ulfric Stormcloak is spearheading the rebel movement. The idea of Skyrim having a High King is wrong to him, so instead of complaining about it and then moving on like everyone else, he took action. I don't agree with all of his actions, but I respect that he took the initiative.

"Did they already claim Winterhold? If we're going to send fighters, we should be ready. The Stormcloaks have proven that they're not going down without taking some of us with them." Two of our best were killed at the battle for Fort Amol. They were the first Companion casualties of this uprising. As Farkas considers how to answer, a blip of a memory flashes through my head.

 _"See, everyone remembers the last war. How could they not? After it was all over, there was almost no kingdom left. The Stormcloaks_ _had grown faster than anyone anticipated. And there are still some of them out there. You have to watch out, Skaya. No one else is going to look out for you." I position the bow just like he showed me. His eyes glow with pride, but then he frowns. "Think for a second. Is that the most efficient arrow for you to be using right now?"_

 _I am fifteen years old. My parents had a bow and arrow in my hands before I could talk, and truthfully it's_ _my favorite possession. Not because it can be used to kill, but because every time I hit my practice target (either my father's rusty old shield or_ _rotten fruit that my mother would otherwise throw out), pride fills my heart. Same with the sword; it's not my favorite, but my father_ _would laugh if I tried to hit anything up close_ _with the bow. So he told me to choose a close-combat weapon to train._

 _My very first sword was presented to me on my sixteenth birthday: a Dwarven beauty. I kept it clean and practiced my skills every day. Little did I know it would save-_

Nope, not going there right now. I stop the mental train in its tracks and fall back to the present just as he starts talking. "We sent a party to scout it out this morning. It's overrun with Stormcloaks. Not only that, but they have a whole damn fleet of horses. More than we've ever seen before."

"I want to help. What can I do?"

"Skaya, you were attacked by wolves today. And you didn't answer my question – are you healing well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Now answer mine: what can I do to help?"

He rises from the ottoman, tension filling his voice. "Nothing. No, wait, that's not true. You need to get better." He looks me directly in the eyes. "And that means you will not join the fight for Winterhold. Not this time."

I leap to my feet. "Now just a minute! Was anyone going to inform me before they made a decision FOR me?" At this, Farkas stands up too.

"I know you want to help, and I can appreciate that. Everyone else does too. But we need all our warriors to be in their best health, so we can keep casualties to a minimum and accomplish our goals. What if you get an injury that won't ever heal? What if we sent you roaring into battle and had to return to Whiterun with your dead body? I—I couldn't-" His voice catches and he looks at the floor.

Tears prick my eyes. _No, don't cry! Not now!_ I sit back down and turn to face the wall, hoping that my voice won't waver. "I'm tired. Please go."

Through my blurring vision I can see him relax as he sits next to me. "We should have waited for you to wake up before we decided. I'm sorry for that. But we can't spare any time." He puts a hand on my shoulder as his voice lowers to a whisper.

"Trust us—and if you can't do that, I'm asking you to just trust me. Please. You'll be back and better than ever soon." With that, he gets up and takes my now-empty food tray. "Let anyone know if you need anything. Good night."

I watch as he walks out of the communal bedroom. Suddenly, he pauses in the doorway and turns around. "By the way, you never have to hide your books around me," he says, motioning toward the sheets where I shoved the romance novel. _By the Gods, the stupid novel. He did see it. You fool._


	4. Chapter 4

My cheeks burn red as I gape at him. He just gives me a small smile and plods back upstairs. "Ria," he says politely as the dining hall door creaks open. "Pardon me." Softer footsteps descend the stairs and Ria, my first female Companion friend, pads into the bedroom.

"Hi. How are you doing?" She sheds her armor and weapons and collapses onto her bed.

"Fine, thanks," I run a finger gingerly over the scratch on my chest.

"It's good that you're okay." She looks at me, her eyes seemingly peering into my soul. I throw a smile at her.

Small talk isn't my best skill, but I'll make an attempt for Ria. "How was your day? Any news?"

"Well, it's better now that you're back here safe. I was out with a few others hunting horkers when you were attacked. When we came back, the whole place was buzzing. You'd just been brought in."

"Did you catch any? I've been craving some stew for a while now. Farkas brought me some but that just made me want it more."

Ria laughs, a quiet chirp. "Yeah, we found a beach full of them! It was really funny – the beach blended in with the water because it was already pretty dark, and as we crept up to it Athis tripped over a horker's tail." She dissolves into giggles as she tells me how the two of them scrambled away looking for Torvar and Njada, who were taking out a couple of mudcrabs nearby. "Anyway, so when we got back to the beach, an army of pissed-off horkers was glaring at us. Njada hollered at them to stop grunting, you know how they do, and then she waded into the group of them waving her axe. Oh, Skaya, you should've seen it!"

I laugh along with her. She has a way with storytelling. "So did you bring any back?" I ask.

"A couple." She yawns and strips off her weapons and armor. "Maybe tomorrow you can ask Tilma to teach you the recipe for the stew. She taught me how to make a mean apple pie." Her eyes are closing as she stretches out on her bed. "Good night, Skaya."

"Good night, Ria," I reply, wishing I was tired enough to sleep again. For a while, I just stare at the ceiling, listening to the sounds from upstairs. Someone starts up a drinking game; raucous laughter echoes as glasses clatter. The _swish-swish_ of Tilma's broom as she does her best to clean up after all the happiest ones, so to speak. Since I can't sleep, I might as well keep myself occupied elsewhere. I grab my romance novel and shuffle out of the bedroom to Kodlak's den. His bedroom door is shut, and I can hear soft snoring, so he must've skipped out on the festivities upstairs in favor of an early bedtime. He always encourages us to come to the den, though; he says it's a place for anyone and everyone, day or night.

I curl up in the big chair by the oak desk. The plot's pretty bad, but I'm hooked. An Orc woman falls in love with a Dunmer man who just happens to be married...to her adopted Redguard sister.

I'm just getting to the part where the Orc professes her love to the Dunmer – her brother-in-law, Mara forbid - when the door opens and feet come clattering downstairs. Everyone retreats to their bedrooms, wishing good nights to their friends. Vilkas and Farkas trail behind the others as they chatter quietly. The latter of the two stops before entering his bedroom.

I pretend not to notice and focus on other things: _Why do members of the Circle each have their own bedrooms? We're all supposed to be equal here. They get to be surrounded by their own belongings while everyone_ _in the whelps' dorm gets to fall asleep (or not) to Torvar_ _snoring like a foghorn._

"Would you like a drink?" Farkas's deep voice is softer than usual as he strides over to me.

"What?" I start, taken off guard. I've never actually been in his room. Not that I've ever had a reason to be in there. I barely know the man.

"You look like you could use some mead." He tilts his head towards his room.

"Okay, um, sounds good." I stand up and walk over to him. He holds the door open for me, then comes in and shuts it behind us. His eyes travel down to the book clutched under my arm and he smiles. My heart skips a beat.

He has a minibar in his room. Ha! This just got interesting. "Welcome to my humble abode," he jokes. I can't help but smile.

"What kind do you have?" I slide into a wooden chair as he fills two mugs from a barrel on the bar and hands me one. The first sip warms my blood instantly.

"Honningbrew, of course. If you want Black-Briar, you'll have to go to Riften and look up Maven's ass." With this, he sinks into a chair across from me.

I lurch forward, trying not to spit out a mouthful of mead. "I doubt she'd let me get that close. I'm not noble enough."

His turn to smile. It reaches up to the corners of his dark eyes.

The mead dulls the lingering pain from the earlier wolf encounter. Farkas is quite easy to talk to. He tells me how he and Vilkas came to be Companions and how he wishes he knew who their mother was. He comments on Jorrvaskr's endless amount of rumors when I bring them up (Aela and Skjor really are together; Ysgramor was NOT secretly a vampire). More apologies are exchanged for the way our last conversation went awry. It's after midnight when Farkas yawns and I realize I should go to bed too. I stretch my arms out behind me and forget that my scratches are still there; they painfully protest as I wince. Farkas looks at me and something flashes through his eyes that I can't make out. Not pity, but maybe concern or sadness? I don't know why he'd be sad. After all, they're just scratches. I'll be okay.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I feel as if I never went to sleep at all. The scratches radiate like an intense fever and my limbs are heavy. I drag myself out of bed two hours after everyone else has gotten up for the day, knowing that something isn't right. When I finally pull on some clothes and stumble upstairs, Vilkas and Aela are sitting at the main table drinking and talking business. My head spins as sunlight flashes blindingly through the windows. I grab the nearest chair to steady myself.

"Skaya, what's going on?" Aela's voice drifts over. I squeeze my eyes shut. No way talking is a good idea right now. Footsteps hurry over and Vilkas says something about wolves and infections.

Aela puts one hand on my shoulder and another on my waist. Through the fog, she guides me over to a bench. She tells Vilkas to fetch something. The next thing I know, black spots dance in front of my eyes and I can't keep them open anymore. I lean against Aela's shoulder and let them close completely.

...

 _Someone is yelling. Why are they yelling? Pots and pans slam on the counter. I can't see anything but then someone screams. I duck and curl into a ball. When I was little, Mother told me_ _that nobody can see me_ _when I do that. Then she'd_ _pick_ _me up and twirl_ _me around while Father laughed, a joyful sound that I never tired of hearing._

 _But nobody's laughing now. It's cold outside the house. I want to show my parents the deer I caught for our next few meals – I'm pretty sure it's my biggest catch yet. They're going to be so proud._

 _Just then, a thin scream sounds from my parents' bedroom. Their window is just above my head. I look up as blood spatters onto it from inside. Fear washes over me, making my heart race._ _This can only mean one thing._

 _That's when I run. I run, and I don't look back._

…

I jolt awake. Again. There seems to be an ongoing pattern when it comes to me requiring medical attention. This time I'm in Aela's room, tucked into her bed.

This is ridiculous. People have better things to do than baby me. I lower my feet to the floor and cautiously stand. My head twinges, but I don't feel dizzy like before. I intend to ask Vilkas what he meant earlier when he brought up infections.

There's talking coming from upstairs, so it must not be too late yet. I amble up, determined to figure out what's going on. Everyone turns when the door opens. Curious mutterings rumble through the crowd seated at the table for dinner. A few hellos come my way. I self-consciously run a hand through my tangled mop of hair.

"You're awake," Aela comes over to greet me and takes my hand in her own. "I'm guessing you'd like some answers now?"

Well, if she can't read minds. I nod briskly.

"I thought so. Come on," she says. We weave through the crowd of people, who by now are continuing their conversations and paying little attention to me. Good.

Vilkas is at the far end of the table with Farkas and Skjor. The latter two politely nod as we approach; Vilkas stands. "It's good to see you up and moving around. Let's go somewhere quiet and I'll explain everything."

Aela lets go of my hand and trails behind as Vilkas leads me outside to the patio. The other Companions' energetic chatter fades away when he shuts the door. Aela sits beside me at the table as Vilkas drags over a stool and parks himself in front of us.

He takes a breath and begins. "Have you ever heard of rockjoint?"

I furrow my brow. What kind of a word is that?

"I'll take that as a no. Basically you can contract it from wolf bites or even scratches. It's kind of like a bad spell of lethargy, plus a fever. We should've considered the possibility of it earlier, but we must've overlooked it. I'm sorry."

"I don't get it," I say, puzzled. "What could you have done differently?"

"There's a potion that can prevent the onset of it. In our haste to heal the most prominent wounds, we didn't think to make sure you got it."

I blink rapidly. Aela won't look at me. "It's my fault. I'm the one with medical knowledge," she whispers, almost inaudibly.

"What? Okay, so maybe you forgot that. But I don't blame you. Or you," I say, tipping my head toward Vilkas. "I wouldn't be sitting here now if not for you." The buzzing in my head returns, louder than ever. I grip the table and gulp in the sweet night air.

Vilkas looks at Aela. "How much did you give her?"

"As much as I thought she could handle. Two bottles full."

My head slowly clears. "You mean the potion?"

Vilkas nods. "It won't work as well because you didn't get it immediately after you were attacked. But it will help with a lot of the side effects, like the dizziness, and the infection should be gone in a couple of days at the most."

Aela is still mumbling to herself about guilt and rookie mistakes. In my month of getting to know her, I've never seen her like this. I elbow her gently in the ribs. "Cut it out. You know as well as I do that beating yourself up won't make me any better." I laugh hoarsely. "In fact, I like you better when you're bossing me around."

She stops mumbling and seems to come back to herself. "I won't be so stupid next time." She hugs me fiercely. Vilkas asks if there's anything else I want to know.

"Winterhold. Farkas says I can't go. I don't suppose you would tell me otherwise?"

He sighs. "As of now, I'm going to agree with him. The Stormcloaks are serious about capturing that city, and they're not going down without a big fight. We need everyone – well, he probably gave you that spiel already. The thing is, they've never gone after a city before. This fight will be much bigger than the ones at the forts. Although you've done quite well in training and at your Trial, we're not sure it'd be a good idea for you to go even without the infection."

It was worth a shot. I thank him and he heads back inside, leaving Aela and I still at the table. I turn to her. "Did you eat already? I could use some energy."

"No, I was just about to sit down when you came up. Let's go."

As she holds the door open for me, I glance up at the twinkling sky.

The stars are beautiful at night. This I know.

Aela wants to keep me in her room one more night in case something else goes wrong, but the next day I wake up feeling almost normal, save for some sore limbs. The day after that, I go for a short jog around the market square and up to Dragonsreach with renewed energy. The scratches are healing just fine, according to Aela. The worst is over.

For me, anyway. Everyone else is preparing to leave for Winterhold in a week's time. General Tullius has many injured soldiers and is in desperate need of assistance. Kodlak devotes most of his time to working at the Skyforge with Eorlund, helping him sort supplies and sharpen weapons. Ria spends hours in the training yard with Njada and Athis. The two brothers buzz around, making sure everyone is helping out. There's one person, though, who rarely gets any help.

"Tilma?" I come across the old woman in the main hall. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, thank you, dear. If you'd like to fetch a broom, that would save me some time."

I oblige and join her in cleaning up remnants of last night's rambunctious dinner. "Tilma, how did you get to work here?" She's always asking us how we're doing. I wonder when was the last time someone asked her the same.

She bites her lip before answering. "Well, I grew up here in Whiterun. Had a big family – two brothers and two sisters, plus my parents and an aunt who'd been down on her luck for a while. We lived on a tiny farm a mile from town.

"And we were happy. My mother and aunt worked as maids in Dragonsreach, and my father kept livestock and grew vegetables that he would come to town to sell. I can still picture the cabbage patch..." She trails off, then clears her throat. "Anyway, life was good. My aunt eventually saved up enough to move away. My oldest sister was seventeen by then and asked if she could go too. They left a few weeks later. We missed them terribly, but they wrote to us often. They said they'd settled in Riften, and my sister worked at the orphanage there."

"My brothers were twins. They both joined up with that cursed Dark Brotherhood." She spits out the name like venom. "We were all distraught, of course. No one wants their relatives anywhere near that organization of murderers. We never saw them again. As for my other sister, she got married to a traveler from Morthal. Moved up there with him and had a couple of kids.

"By then, it was just my parents and their youngest child – me. I knew I liked music, so I studied flute at the Bards' College. But after I graduated, I realized there was nowhere I wanted to be except Whiterun. I came back and found out that the farm was gone – it'd burned down only a few days earlier. I lost my parents and most of my father's livestock too."

"Oh, Tilma, I'm so sorry," My condolences come out sounding flat. Words won't change her past.

"Well, that was years ago. Both my sisters are gone now, but my two nephews still live in Morthal. They're both married with kids of their own."

"Good for them! You must be proud. Listen, I'd love to hear you play your flute sometime."

She chuckles and looks beyond me, then shakes her head and takes the broom from my hands. We survey the floor, now clean, as if no one had been there in the first place.

"Like I said, dear, that was years ago. After I lost them, I didn't have anyone to share my music with. So I stopped sharing it at all."

Her eyes pierce my own.

"I only wish I could remember how to play."

She gives me a sad smile, then pads back to the kitchen with the brooms.


	6. Chapter 6

Tilma stays in the kitchen for a long time, shuffling around and cleaning up from what I can tell. I take advantage of the quiet moment, sitting down in a corner chair with a book on the history of the Companions. Well, that's what it looks like to everyone else. I slide the romance novel in front of it, like a child trying to hide his doodles.

I'm sure it looks totally casual, holding up a giant book in front of my face. But no one walks through the main hall for a while, meaning no suspicious questions for me. All is calm until the back door swings open and the other whelps trudge in from their day of sparring. I tune in to the escalating argument between Athis and Njada.

"Listen, elf, I don't know how they do things where you're from but-"

"Don't you dare bring my home into this!"

Oh boy. I lower the books to my lap and place my hands strategically over the titles. Torvar grumbles, "Can you both just shut up? _Please?_ "

Ria scurries away from the commotion to me. "They've been going on and on for hours," she says breathlessly. "Ever since he finally beat her in a spar. I know," she goes on when my jaw hits the floor, "I didn't think it would ever happen either, but then he just got in a blow that she couldn't block. Vilkas and Farkas had to separate them."

As if on cue the brothers storm inside behind the bickering group. Next to me, Ria turns, our eyes glued to the impending spectacle.

"Stop this bullshit. This is not how warriors behave," Farkas growls. Vilkas looks like he wants to knock the arguing Companions' heads together.

"I agree, Farkas. It's how temperamental sore losers behave!" Athis snaps.

"Fucking moron," Njada spits before turning on her heel and stalking towards the stairs. Ria and I both avoid eye contact as she passes. The door slams a second later.

Athis is shaking with fury. His hands are curled into fists, but he internalizes a lot more than Njada does. He goes to the table and slumps into a chair. Ria and I are still gaping like startled deer. The brothers walk past us downstairs, nodding in greeting.

Communal dinner tonight is going to go very well, I'm sure.

…

Luckily, no one goes after anyone at the dinner table. I could cut the tension in the room with a knife, but I settle for cutting the hearty piece of chicken on my plate. Ria chatters cheerfully to my right. "Did you know if you kill a chicken in cold blood, you'll get a bounty? I saw it happen once, over in Riverwood. Someone knocked over that wagon cart, sent the cabbages flying, and then aimed their bow at the chicken. The guards came running."

"Like someone stole their sweetroll," I say, and she giggles and spreads butter on a piece of bread. Athis is to my left, looking glum but occasionally engaging in conversation with me or, on his other side, Aela. Njada has yet to make an appearance. She must still be stewing. Pretty childish, if you ask me. Sometimes I wonder how she got to be a Companion with her attitude; in fact, that attitude seems to be the only companion she really needs.

"So what happened next? Did someone take the chicken?" Athis pipes up.

Ria takes a swig of water before answering. "No, I don't think so. A couple of the kids were frightened and bolted indoors, and everyone else who saw was just straight-up shocked."

"And you have no idea who it was that committed such an atrocity?"

"Well, besides the townspeople, I know there were two Khajiit at the scene. They had their faces covered with hoods, but they couldn't hide their tails, obviously."

"Hmmm," Athis looks lost in thought, rubbing his chin. "Maybe it...no, it couldn't be."

"What?" Ria tilts her head curiously.

"Well, it's unlikely of course, but what if it was the Dragonborn?"

I stifle a snort. Really, the Dragonborn in Riverwood? Who is he kidding? I voice my doubts. "Yeah, right. No way the Dragonborn knows Riverwood even exists. This is someone who literally eats dragons' souls for breakfast while sifting through her heroic responsibilities."

"I don't think that's how it works," Ria states gently. I shrug. It's not like I know the Dragonborn personally. I swallow my last bite of chicken and start in on a baked potato.

"Besides," I add, "she lives in Riften. Why would she be all the way up here?"

"She had no problem coming to Skyrim from Elsweyr. Surely it couldn't be that difficult for her to travel as she pleases," Athis remarks wryly. Can't argue with that. "The caravans still aren't allowed in the cities, so who else could it be?"

"Can you imagine if she came to Jorrvaskr? The Dragonborn?" Ria says dreamily.

"Why would she do that?" I ask. Only because it seems that she would have more important things to do than visit an upside-down ship. _Where is all this negativity coming from?_

"I don't know, Skaya, can't a girl have an unrealistic wish?" Ria peers at me, like she doesn't recognize me.

"Okay, I'm sorry," I say, now aware of how rude I sound. "I didn't mean to be an ass. She just kind of seems like a mythical creature who flits around the cities without ever really being seen by anyone. Like a holier-than-thou sort of thing."

Ria nods, considering my comment, and we finish the last of our meals and gather our dishes to bring to the kitchen. I decide to turn in early so as to finally finish my novel. The Orc was rejected by her Dunmer brother-in-law and was subsequently shunned by most of her family. Now she's found love with another elf – her brother-in-law's twin, who lives in a different city and has no idea about her past crushes. This is just too good.

The days pass quickly, and before I know it I'm back to training, focusing on my archery. Njada still isn't speaking to Athis, or anyone really. I don't know what the Circle plans to do with her. She may be good with weapons and shields, but her attitude cancels out her skills. And with the group leaving for Winterhold in the morning, everyone needs to be working together.

"Alright, time to switch to a battleaxe," Farkas says from behind me. I lower my bow and turn to face him.

"Was my archery adequate for today?"

"Looks good to me. You hit almost every target on the first try."

I shiver as an unseasonably-cold breeze wafts through the training yard and frizzes up my hair, but his praise warms me. Not that I'm here to impress anyone else, of course, but it's still nice to hear. Especially from him. _Wait, what?_ _No._

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I imagine what it would be like to be closer to Farkas. He's a silent warrior for the most part, maybe afraid someone will insult him if he speaks unprompted, but I want to see inside his mind. Like the other night when he invited me to his room for a drink. That was a whole different person, someone with thoughts and emotions and no mask to cover them up.

Now, the mask is back. And I'm going to get past it somehow. He just has to make it back alive after tomorrow's fight.

I don't sleep at all.


	7. Chapter 7

...

 _I crash_ _through the forest, leaving snapped twigs and tattered leaves in my_ _wake. I dodge fallen logs and protruding roots. Finally, my boots heavy with accumulated forest detritus, I stop and slump against a giant oak. It takes what feels like hours for my heart to calm down, but really_ _it can't be more than ten minutes. Unless I want to freeze tonight, I'll have to get a fire going. I rummage through the brush for kindling. The fire will be small, but I don't need to attract attention. Once I have it smoldering, I wander to a nearby stream. Salmon streak through the clear water. I catch two and take them back to my_ _makeshift campsite. I'll have to stay here for a couple days, to make sure the killers are long gone when I venture back home._

 _They said it might happen like this, but I didn't believe them. That was my_ _worst mistake._

…

I awaken before dawn to hushed whispers floating between corners of the room. Everyone else is armoring up. I shove off the covers and stand to help Ria with hers. She's unusually quiet. Poor girl has barely been here three months and she's already going into battle. I guess this is what she – we – signed up for, but she's trembling as I hand her my dwarven sword. "For good luck," I whisper, and she smiles. "I wish I could fight next to you today."

The others file out of the room, and Ria hugs me before following them out. I crawl back into bed. None of the merchants will be out this early, and with everyone leaving for Winterhold there's no one else to talk to. So I bury myself under the hide blanket, willing myself to calm down. It's not ideal, but there's nothing else to do.

Some time later, a door shuts down the hallway. From the light, steady footsteps I can tell it's Aela. I get up to find her striding towards the stairs. "You're still here?"

"Someone from the Circle always stays behind. We can't leave the place unattended, not with Kodlak and Tilma here."

"When do you think they'll all be back?" I shift from one foot to the other.

"Hopefully in a week or less. We don't want any casualties but the Stormcloaks won't go down without a messy fight."

I nod, retreating towards my bed. I don't want to think about this.

"If you don't feel like going back to sleep, you can come gather supplies with me. We're almost out of mountain flowers and thistle, and you whelps need to be shown what the wilderness has to offer besides game."

"That sounds great," I reply, feeling my heart lift at the prospect of not worrying for a few hours. I throw on some leather armor and follow her outside. It's cooler than usual today, with a light mist to the wind. Three pheasants chase each other through the air above the Dragonsreach steps. A lone blue butterfly flutters down towards the marketplace. So much life around us, and yet sometimes all we can think about is the death. I don't want anyone to be killed in this fight. _Damn Stormcloaks_ _just couldn't accept that their_ _side lost._

"Are you coming?" Aela calls from halfway down the stairs. I need to focus. Worrying won't help my friends or myself. I trot to catch up with her, swerving to avoid crashing into a sleepy guard on patrol. As we approach the gate, Adrianne stops us to chat about new items she's just forged. A glass dagger catches my eye, and I have enough time to pick it up and turn it over in my hands before Aela bids Adrianne goodbye and we're on our way again. "Come back if you want to test out that dagger!" Adrianne calls after me. I wave back at her.

The guards let us through and now it's just us and the wilderness. I picture the party of fighters leaving this morning, their dark boots trekking over the worn stone paths, and I wish more than ever that I could've fought at their side. Instead, Aela and I gather more than we know what to do with, just to keep ourselves preoccupied. The sun is starting to disappear behind the trees when an arrow whizzes past my left ear. I catch a flash of fur armor through the foliage.

 _Bandits._


	8. Chapter 8

I barely have time to turn my head before Aela curses under her breath and whips out two iron daggers. With a wave of panic, I realize I didn't think to bring any weapons.

I am an icebrain. No question about it.

Fortunately Aela thought to bring more than one, and she tosses me the daggers before producing a Skyforge steel greatsword and ducking behind a massive tree stump. I drop into a crouch and roll behind another tree as a flurry of arrows narrowly misses us. "Where did they come from?" Aela hisses. Suddenly she charges forward, and with that five bandits appear from behind trees in front of us. I leap out to back her up, bracing myself for the imminent pain. Two of the brawny punks are already locked in a fight with Aela while another has scrambled up a tree and is readying a bow. The other two are advancing toward me, axes drawn. This isn't good.

The two Orcs smile menacingly. "Come now, elf, this can be nice and easy if you want it to be," one says, baring ugly yellow teeth. They're easily five inches taller than I am. _Don't back down. You're better than that._

I decide to let them make the first move. When the one who spoke winds up to swing, I raise one dagger to deflect it while the other sinks into his shoulder. He yowls and grabs his shoulder. I take the extra second to spin out of the way before he can connect a hit. The second Orc launches toward me with a growl, and my mind blanks as to what I should do. So I just dart forward on a whim and sink them into his stomach. I feel the axe snap down between my shoulder blades. That's going to hurt tomorrow. But at least he falls to the ground, incapacitated as blood runs down his stomach. _One down, one to go._

I sneak a glance towards Aela. It appears that she's sparring with the archer who was in the tree before, while her other two opponents lay dead on the ground. Two arrows stick out from her right arm.

The other Orc gives up trying to chase me and instead whips the axe at my face and wheels around to flee. I duck to avoid the flying blade and decide he's not worth going after. Not when my friend is in trouble.

I barge into their battle, aiming the daggers at the archer's back. He wasn't expecting me, so in the second he stops swinging, surprised, Aela swings at his face. He makes a strangled cry and collapses to the ground.

We look at each other, trying to process what just happened. My upper back hurts where the axe connected with it. "Do you think the other one will come back?" I ask.

"No," she says, barking out a laugh. "No, I don't think he will. Bastards." She crouches and roots through the archer's pockets, snatching up a small handful of septims and some rare glass arrows. Meanwhile, I lean against a tree to catch my breath. I've never been ambushed like that before – not by people, anyway.

"You okay?" Aela asks, straightening up. I nod and ask her the same question.

"I'll be fine," she says, looking at the arrows buried in her skin. "Let's get back before anything else happens."

We hurry off toward Jorrvaskr, the twilight sun at our backs.


End file.
